Adventure XXXVIII: How Dietrich's Men were all slain

So measureless-wide the wailing swelled in that dolorous hour,That with cries of lamentation re-echoed palace and tower;And the tumult was heard by a warrior of Bern, who was Dietrich'sman,And bearing the heavy tidings to his lord in haste he ran.He spake to the princely hero: "Lord Dietrich, hearken my tale:Through all the years of my life-tide such agony of wailNever I heard upshrieking, as that I have hearkened but now.The King himself, even Etzel, hath come unto scathe, I trow.For what cause else should the people with one voice all make dole?Of the twain one, Etzel or Kriemhild, is no more a living soul.By the wrath of the dauntless strangers have they slept the ironsleep,And countless knightly heroes in measureless anguish weep."But the Lord of Bern made answer: "True liegemen mine, bewareLest in judging ye be o'er-hasty: what desperate deed soe'erHath been done by the homeless heroes, sore need constraineth theirwill.My peace with them I plighted--let this advantage them still."

Then out spake Wolfhart the dreadless: "Lo, I will hence to thehall:I will ask of sorrow her story, what woe hath chanced to befall,And to thee will I bring the tidings, O well-belovèd chief,So soon as I learn what meaneth that voice of a people's grief,"Spake Dietrich the noble: "When heroes in each face look for a foe,And one cometh with rough sharp questions, where a word is like ablow,Then all too quickly enkindled their smouldering anger is:Therefore I will not, Wolfhart, that thou question touching this."Then he commanded Helfric to go swift-hastening,And he bade him ask of the matter from the folk of Etzel the King,Or, as it might be, from the strangers, what hap had befallen there;For never had such lamentation of a multitude thrilled the air.

So the messenger came, and he questioned: "What thing hath chancedthis day?"And a woeful voice made answer: "All joy hath fled away,Yea, the last that was yet remaining to the Hunfolk's stricken land!Here lieth Rüdiger, slaughtered by some Burgundian hand;Not one of his liegemen liveth, that with him went into the fight."Never could woefuller tidings on the ears of Helfrich smite;Never so loth in spirit a tale to his lord he bore;And he came back unto Dietrich weeping and mourning sore."What hast thou learnt?--thy tidings?" Dietrich spake forthright."Why weepest thou so sorely, O Helfrich, my good knight?""Good cause have I for lamenting," answered the noble thane:"The good Lord Rüdiger lieth by hands Burgundian slain!"Cried the Hero of Bern: "Forbid it, God, that this should be!This were a ghastly vengeance, 'twere the Fiend's arch-mockery!Rüdiger?--how should he ever such evil requital have earned?True friend to the homeless strangers was he, long since I learned."Cried Wolfhart the lion-hearted: "If the righteous blood they haveshed,All these shall dearly abye it! Their lives be forfeited!If we should endure such outrage, our shame and reproach it were!How oft hath it rendered us service, the hand of Rüdiger!"

The Prince of the Amal people bade them inquire yet more.He sat him down at a casement: heavy his heart was and sore.Old Hildebrand he commanded to the warrior guests to speed,And to hear from their lips the story of this most evil deed.The good knight battle-fearless, old Master Hildebrand,Took neither sword nor buckler; all weaponless was his hand:He purposed to go to the strangers in knightly courtesy;Thereat the son of his sister chode with him angerly.Spake the grim warrior Wolfhart: "And goest thou fenceless there?Then flout and scoff for answer, be sure, they will not spare;And so, like a hound well beaten, with shame wilt thou turn again!But go, like a man, war-harnessed, and their malapert tongues willthey rein."

Thereat did the old knight arm him, after the young man's rede;And, or ever Hildebrand knew it, stood all in battle-weedThe eager warriors of Dietrich: sword in hand stood they.And the hero was grieved, and had turned them, an he might, fromtheir purposed way."Whither away?" he asked them. "Thither will we with thee;And haply Hagen of Troneg less eager then shall beWith jeering speech to mock thee, as his cruel wont is still."And the hero hearkened and answered, "Be it then as ye will."

Then looked forth Volker the valiant, and the knights of Bern hesaw,The liegemen of Lord Dietrich, full-harnessed thitherward draw,Girded about with war-glaives, with bucklers gripped in hand;And he told it unto his masters, the Lords of Burgundia-land;And spake the viol-minstrel: "Yonder I see draw nearThe vassal-throng of Dietrich, like foes in battle-gearHarnessed, and under helmet, as who would beset us in fight.I ween we homeless heroes shall now be in evil plight."

Even as he spake his warning, thither came Hildebrand;And there, with his great shield planted on the earth at his feet,did he stand;And cried to the men of Gunther that sorrow-stricken one:"Ah, noble knights, what evil unto you had Rüdiger done?Me hath my good lord Dietrich unto you sent hitherwardTo wot if a hand Burgundian it was that slew with the swordThe noble Lord of the Marches, as the tale unto us was told;For then should our weeping be endless, our grief aye unconsoled."Made answer Hagen of Troneg: "That tale is all too true.Right glad were I had the teller thereof but lied unto youFor Rüdiger's sake, that the hero might live to gladden our eyes--He for whom wailing of women and men evermore shall rise."

When they heard those heavy tidings that their friend was dead intruth,Loud mourned the loyal-hearted, the good knights wept for ruth;The tears ran down the faces of Dietrich's valiant men,And the drops on the beards of them glistened: sore grief was theirportion then.Siegstab the Bernese war-duke lamented over his friend:"Woe's me for the lovingkindness that here hath found an end,The kindness that Rüdiger showed us in the days of our exile-pain!The comfort of all the homeless lieth by you knights slain!"Then did a man of the Amals, the war-thane Wolfwein, cry:"Though I saw my very father here dead before me lie,I were not more sorrow-stricken than for Rüdiger laid low.Alas! who now shall comfort the Margravine in her woe?"In wrathful indignation Wolfhart the dauntless cried:"Who now shall lead the heroes, on the war-path when they ride,As our knights have been led of the Margrave many a time ere now?Woe, Rüdiger most noble, lost unto us art thou!"Wolfbrand the strong and Helfrich, and Helmnot the thane withal,With all their friends and kinsmen, wept for Rüdiger's fall.

No further could Hildebrand question for sighing, but spake oneword:"Now grant to us that, O heroes, for the which we were sent of ourlord.Give forth of the hall the body unto us of the noble dead,In whom is our sunny joyance into night of mourning fled.Let our last sad service requite him for all that to us he hath doneIn kindness passing loyal, and to many a homeless one.We be here in a strange land strangers like Rüdiger the knight...Why keep ye us here waiting? Let us bear him hence forthright,And render the perished hero such honour as we may,Such as we gladly had rendered, were he alive this day."Answered and spake King Gunther: "No service is worthier praiseThan that to a dead friend rendered by his friends of the olden days;Yea, when in your power it lieth, that call I friendship true.It is meet ye should do him service for the love he hath shown untoyou."

"Words, words!--how long must we pray you?" cried Wolfhart withpassionate breath."There lieth our chiefest comfort, by your hands done to death!And we to our sorrow no longer may have our friend in our sight.Let us bear him hence from his slayers, and lay in the graveforthright!"Volker flung back his answer: "None giveth him up at thine hest!He is here--e'en take him from us! The noblest knight and the bestLieth amidst of a blood-pool with death-wounds stricken down.Unto Rüdiger do this service: it shall be your friendship's crown!"

Made answer Wolfhart the dreadless: "God knows, thou master of song,Thou hast little to do to provoke us! Ye have done us enow of wrong!But that awe of my lord constrains me, thou wert in sorry plight!But now must we brook thine insults, since he hath forbidden thefight."Then sneered the viol-minstrel: "Who goeth in timorous doubtLest he haply transgress a commandment, shall brook full many aflout.Small share of the spirit of heroes I find in a mood so mild!"At the biting speech of his comrade Hagen grimly smiled.

"Thou shalt lack not proof of my spirit!" hotly Wolfhart cried."I will jangle thy viol-music so, that if ever thou rideHomeward hence to the Rhineland, thou shalt croak a new song there!Thy malapert tongue, thou scorner, with honour I may not bear!"Answered the viol-minstrel: "An thou mar one faintest toneOf the strings of my good viol, the sheen of thy morionShall be grievously dimmed and sullied with thy blood by my righthand,Howsoever it fall with my riding back to Burgundia-land."

Then Wolfhart had leapt on the minstrel, but in mid rush was heheld,By the giant strength of his uncle, old Hildebrand, compelled."I see thou wouldst play the madman in thy foolish wrath!" did hecry."The favour of our Lord Dietrich thou wilt forfeit utterly!""Let loose thy lion, O keeper, so fiercely he chafes at the chain!But and if to mine hands he cometh," cried Volker the mighty thane,"Although his wondrous prowess had smitten the whole world dead,I will slay him: no more hot answers from that mad tongue shall besped!"

In the eyes of the Bernese warriors blazed the onset's light:Upswung his buckler Wolfhart, that battle-eager knight:With the leap of a desert lion against that taunter he leapt:Like a torrent up to the stairway his friends behind him swept.But with what great leaps soever to the door of the hall he sped,Old Hildebrand before him sprang to the stairway-head:He would suffer none to outpace him, nor to plunge mid the war-surgefirstReady the stern guests waited to quench their battle-thirst.Full upon Hagen rushed he, old Master Hildebrand,Loud rang the swords fierce-smiting in either hero's hand.The crash of their mighty meeting spake out their fury afar.Flashed from their clashing war-glaives a fire-red wind of war.Then suddenly were they sundered by the sweep of the tide of fight,By the inrushing charge of the Bern-folk afire with fury and might.And as Hildebrand from Hagen on the tempest of battle was whirled,Wolfhart the strong in that moment against bold Volker hurled.On the helm of the viol-minstrel so mightily clashed his glaive,That the steel's resistless keenness through the bands of the morionclave:That stroke did the aweless minstrel so fiercely, so swiftly repay,That the sword-smitten harness of Wolfhart was a fountain of fieryspray.From the hauberks, as they hewed them, did the lightning-flashesflare:Grim was the hate these foemen each unto other bare!Yet these twain Wolfwein parted, and he fronted Volker alone:Had he not been a very hero, such deed he had never done!

Gunther the valiant war-king, with never-resting handFaced the far-famous heroes, the knights of Amelung-land;And Giselher, princely champion, lashed at the helmets brightTill crimson they showed and dripping with blood in the storm offight.Dankwart the brother of Hagen exceeding grimly fought;All knightly deeds that in battle he theretofore had wroughtAgainst the knights of Etzel, as an idle wind seemed all:Then first did the battle-frenzy on the son of Aldrian fall.Right well did Ritschart and Gerbart, Helfrich and Wichart, instrife;In many a battle-tempest had they spared nor limb nor life,And they proved their ancient prowess on Gunther's men that day.There gallantly Wolfbrand breasted the surges of the fray.There fought like a very madman the old knight Hildebrand;There many a thane Burgundian 'neath stalwart Wolfhart's hand,His soul from his limbs sword-sundered, amidst the blood sank down.So avenged were Rüdiger's death-wounds by those warriors of renown!

There fought the war-duke Siegstab by the wind of his wrath swepton.Ha, what strong-welded helmets by Dietrich's sister's son,As he burst through the reeling war-ranks, were cleft on the heads offoes!Never in battle-tempest did man deal knightlier blows.Then drew nigh Volker the stalwart, and an evil sight he beheld,Saw from cleft rings of hauberks how blood in torrents welled'Neath the smiting of valiant Siegstab, and the hero's wrath rosehigh,And he leapt upon that slayer--and ended suddenlyBy the hand of the viol-minstrel were the days of Siegstab the brave.Such proof of his battle-cunning Volker the terrible gaveThat his life from the sword-edge fleeted, and dead he lay in hisbloodBut hard by fury-kindled the avenger Hildebrand stood.

"Woe for my lord, my belovèd," cried Master Hildebrand,"He who to our sorrow lieth here slain by Volker's hand!Now surely this viol-minstrel hath stricken his own death-stroke!"In Hildebrand the dreadless never grimlier wrath awoke.So mightily smote he Volker, that he cleft his helm-band through:Afar to the walls of the feast-hall the shards on all sides flewFrom his shivered helm and his buckler, as the fearless lord of songReeled earthward--so to his ending at last came Volker the strong.

Then the men of Dietrich's war-band into the conflict hurled:They smote, and the splintered mail-rings flashing afar were whirled,And shards of the lashing war-glaives went flying high overhead:Hot from the rifted helmets the torrent blood they shed.

Then marked grim Hagen of Troneg how Volker the knight lay slain.That was in all this high-tide the deepest-piercing painThat of any mischance unto kinsman or vassal or friend he had proved.How sternly did Hagen set him to avenge his best-beloved!"For this shall he not go scatheless, yon greybeard Hildebrand!Low lieth my battle-helper, slain by the hero's hand,The truest and best war-fellow that ever stood by my side."He swung up his shield: fierce-hewing on the vengeance-quest he hied.Then dealt Helfrich the stalwart unto Dankwart a deadly blow:Unto Giselher and Gunther 'twas a grievous sight enowWhen there they beheld him fallen in death's strong agony;Yet his own hands had avenged him, and not alone did he lie.

(C) For all that so many thousands had gathered from many a land,With their princes mighty-armoured, against that little band,Yet, had not the Christian warriors at the last against them fought,Deliverance from the heathen their prowess, I trow, had wrought.

Wolfhart the while went cleaving a blood-path to and fro;He lashed at the liegemen of Gunther, he laid their bravest low:For the third time now was he hewing a death-way round the hall;Before his mighty hand-strokes did many a good knight fall.Then cried aloud unto Wolfhart the stalwart Giselher:"Alas for me, who have gotten so grim a foeman there!O valiant knight and noble, hither to meward turn!I will end it--no more the destroying flame of thy wrath shall burn."Then unto Giselher turned him Wolfhart amidst of the fight.Many a wound wide-gaping did strong knight deal unto knight.To meet the Prince with fury so eager Wolfhart flashed,That over his head from the blood-pools by his feet were the reddrops dashed.

With stern strokes swift as the lightning did the son of Uta thefairUnto Wolfhart the dauntless champion give terrible welcome there.How stark soe'er was the hero, death on his foe's sword hung.Never more dreadless valour was found in a prince so young!He smote, and through Wolfhart's hauberk that gallant heart he found,So that forth of the wound outrushing his life-blood streamed to theground;Yea, unto death was stricken Dietrich's vassal-knight:--None save a battle-champion had wrought such a deed of might!Wolfhart knew it his death-wound, but the hero undismayedCast from his arm his buckler; his adamant-tempered blade,His sword of the edge all-cleaving, in both hands high did he swing,And he smote the son of Uta through helm and through hauberk-ring.Death-stricken each by other down fell they side by side;By one grim doom that liegeman of Dietrich and Giselher died.Hildebrand, that grey warrior, saw Wolfhart overthrown:Of a truth, through all his life-days such pain had he never known.

By this were Gunther's liegemen one and all laid low,And all the men of Dietrich. Then did Hildebrand goUnto where lay Wolfhart dying amidst of a pool of blood,And in loving arms he clasped him, that gallant knight and good.Forth of the hall to bear him he would fain have uplifted him;But he needs must leave him lying, so huge he was of limb.And the dying eyes of the hero from the blood looked up in his face,And he knew how fain would his uncle have helped him forth thatplace."Nay, uncle well-belovèd," the deadly-wounded saith,"Nought may thine help avail me: it is the hour of death.Nay, guard thee rather from Hagen--this rede, I wot, is good--For in his heart he beareth a fell and murderous mood.And if friends and kinsmen be minded Wolfhart's death to lament,Unto my nearest and dearest this message by thee be sent:--Let there be for my sake no weeping, forasmuch as need is none.At the hands of a king in battle a glorious death I won.Such vengeance withal have I taken for my death, in this hall whodie,That many wives of warriors shall wail with bitter cry.And if any would know the story of my last fight, fearlessly sayThat mine own hand, unholpen, did five-score foemen slay."

Then on the viol-minstrel, his dead friend, Hagen thought,Whose death by the grey-haired hero Hildebrand had been wrought;And he cried to the old man dauntless: "Thou for my grief shalt pay!Of valiant knights too many hast thou robbed us in this fray!"Then upon Hildebrand rushed he, and smote, and the hall rang wideWith the clang of the great sword Balmung, the blade that fromSiegfried's sideHagen the grim had taken, when he murdered the Hero of old.But the grey-haired warded him deftly, the old knight fearless-bold.With a battle-glaive broad-bladed Dietrich's liegeman lashedAt Hagen the Lord of Troneg, and the edge through the mail-ringscrashed;Yet to wound the vassal of Gunther his strength might not prevail;And again did Hagen smite him, and he shore through his strong-knitmail.Now when that grey-haired champion the bite of the sword-edge felt,He feared lest scathe yet greater by Hagen's hand should be dealt.Straightway the liegeman of Dietrich his shield on his back hathcast,And the hero sorely wounded from Hagen's face fled fast.By this of the knights Burgundian was no man left unslainSave only Gunther and Hagen, those noble warriors twain.

All blood-bedabbled hasted Hildebrand the old,And he came to the presence of Dietrich, and his woeful story told.There saw he his master sitting with dark forebodings stirred;But tidings of bitterer sorrow that princely hero heardWhen he saw his liegeman standing in crimson-clotted mail;And with sudden fear heart-stricken he bade him tell his tale:"Ha, Master Hildebrand, tell me, how cometh this?--thou art wetWith thine own life-blood streaming! Of whom hast thou been beset?I ween, with the guests Burgundian in yonder hall thou hast fought--The thing I forbade so straitly! Thou hast set mine best at nought!"Spake Hildebrand to his liege-lord: "Hagen's was this deed:In yonder hall he dealt me the wounds wherefrom I bleed.When before the mighty warrior I turned me from the strife,Hardly from that fiend's fury escaped I with my life."But the Prince of Bern made answer: "Rightly served art thou!Unto yonder guests in thine hearing I spake my friendship's vow;And lo, that peace thou hast broken which I sware unto them that day!Were it not for the shame undying, thy life for this should pay!""Let not thine anger against me, Lord Dietrich, be over-hot,Seeing mischief all too grievous unto me and my friends hath beenwrought.Forth of the hall the body of Rüdiger fain would we bear,And yonder vassals of Gunther would hearken not to our prayer."

"Woe for these sorrowful tidings! Is Rüdiger verily slain?This shall to me be anguish beyond all former pain.The noble Lady Gotlind is mine own dear cousin's child!Alas for the hapless orphans in Bechlaren's halls exiled!"With sorrow of heart and pity for that death wrung was his breast.Then brake he forth into weeping, for the hero was sore distrest:"Alas for the loyal helper that in him is lost unto me!O good knight of King Etzel, evermore must I mourn for thee!Canst, Master Hildebrand, tell me how died he, and cause me to knowHow named was the knight Burgundian who dealt him that death-blow?"He said: "By the battle-prowess of Gernot the strong was it done,And death in the selfsame moment of Rüdiger's hands he won."

Unto Hildebrand spake Dietrich: "Say to my liegemen thouTo array them in armour straightway. Myself will go forth now.Let them bring me my shining harness withal: do thou so command.Myself am minded to question the knights of Burgundia-land."But Master Hildebrand answered: "Who shall go forth with thee?Thine only living liegeman in thy presence now dost thou see,Even me, and there is none other. The rest, they be all dead men."Dismayed was he at the tidings--well might he be anguished then,For in all the wide world never on him did such blow fall.He cried: "What, all my liegemen?--and have they perished all?So then--oh hapless Dietrich!--my God hath forgotten me!And erewhile a king most mighty I reigned in majesty!"

But again in amaze spake Dietrich: "How could it so betideThat they, those goodly heroes, should one and all have diedSlain by men battle-weary and in sore extremity?Mine evil star hath done it, else death must have passed them by!Since then mine evil fortune hath spared me not this stroke,Answer me--live yet any of those Burgundian folk?"And Master Hildebrand answered: "God knoweth, there is noneSave Gunther the king high-hearted and Hagen--these alone,""Woe's me, belovèd Wolfhart! Of thee am I left forlorn?Well may I now repent me that ever I was born!And Siegstab and Wolfwein have fallen, and dead is the goodWolfbrand!Who then shall be mine helpers of the sons of Amelung-land?Helfrich the valiant also, by death from me is he torn?Perished have Gerbert and Wichart--when shall I cease to mourn?This is of all the joyance of life my latest day!Alas that the anguish-stricken sheer sorrow may not slay!"